


No Milk

by starbox



Series: Damian [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Damian Wayne Feels, Domestic Fluff, Gen, but in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbox/pseuds/starbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after all of father's former sidekicks descend on Wayne Manor, Damian encounters a terrible problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Written a month ago and posted to my Tumblr because I needed to and because I was really bored. Now that I have this lovely interface to work with I thought I'd post it here. This is unabashed Bat Family fluff and likely OOCish because I don’t like much of the DC canon anymore. Might trigger emotions if you believe those people who say Damian is dead. Read at your own peril.

It was a problem that even he, Damian Wayne, had not foreseen. And that he had no plan of action in a circumstance like this was a very unwelcome surprise.  
    He glanced around to make sure he was truly alone and then stood on his tip-toes to peer at the upper shelves of the refrigerator. Sure enough, No Milk there either.  
  
    He closed the fridge and stood frowning in front of it. Pennyworth was out getting one of the cars checked, and had not yet returned. He was sure to have this remedied later. But in the meantime the culprit had to be found.  
    Breakfast option two was then cereal… Or not. Damian closed the cabinet with quiet slam. Whole grain toast it was going to have to be. But they sure stocked a lot of cereal. Damian wondered if it was because Grayson ate it for nearly every meal. Grayson. Could he be responsible for this? He had been at the manor last night. But then again, so had everyone else.  
    “Tch.”  
    Damian couldn’t help but voice his growing annoyance. Typical. The one time he had to narrow down a list of suspects the nearly-always-empty manor had actually had guests.  
    After precisely calibrating the toaster he’d had Pennyworth buy, he made his way to the study and peered in. As he had predicted, father wasn’t awake yet. He’d been under the weather ever since a run-in with Poison Ivy and some odd allergic reaction turned flu. And then the whole pack of them had descended on the manor yesterday and father had stayed up way too late talking. Most of them were still there when Damian had said goodnight. They might still be here. Perhaps he could figure this out before the culprit ran off thinking he or she was immune to justice.  
    Damian returned to the kitchen and reviewed the list of suspects as he poured a glass of orange juice.       
  
    1. Grayson  
    2. Todd  
    3. Drake  
    4. Stephanie  
    5. Cass  
  
    And in that order. No, scratch that. Stephanie was a more likely culprit that that stick-in-the-mud, Drake. Drake, in normal circumstances, would be very likely to be affected by the intrusion of chaos that is No Milk. He would have at least mentioned it to Pennyworth.  
    Damian returned the orange juice to the fridge. Cass was only on the list to be thorough. And technically father should be on there too but Damian wasn’t even sure he drank milk on a daily basis. Drinking protein supplement shakes kind of makes milk redundant.  
    His previous thought about Drake made him check the shopping list that Pennyworth kept by the phone. Milk was not on there, so it was looking better for the bottom half of the list. Drake and Cass were both likely to think it rude to drink the last bit of milk at all, let alone do so and not say anything. Stephanie would likely drink it without much regret but she would inform Pennyworth. She was thoughtful in that way… Damian wrote MILK in swift, dark strokes at the top of the list and then went on fixing breakfast.  
    The top two suspects were a different story. Grayson and his obsession with cereal made him an obvious choice. But Todd and his general lack of civility made him nearly equally likely to have done the deed—if not more so. Grayson’s nearly abnormal appetite was only balanced by his acute awareness of those around him. Like Stephanie, this made him likely to realize the trouble No Milk would cause the rest of the household. Damian crunched his last bit of toast and brushed crumbs off his hands. Perhaps it had been Todd after all.  
    But this was all speculation. He had to examine the facts. He slipped once more from the kitchen bar stool and stacked his dishes in the sink. Then he went to examine the house for clues.  
   
    Cass and Stephanie had arrived for dinner on time. Drake had called saying he would be late and in actuality had arrived only a few minutes after them. Grayson had said beforehand that he could only make it after dinner and had also arrived per schedule. Todd had appeared on the doorstep, having not bothered to RSVP, nearly halfway through dinner. He had a few new bruises on his face though so Pennyworth had been understanding. Father had been as well, though less so. He had simply got up from the table, greeted him, and placed a hand on Todd’s back to guide him to his seat by Cass. Damian remembered enjoying seeing that insufferable smirk disappear from Todd’s face.     
    After dinner Damian had taken it upon himself to let Todd know that his behavior was unacceptable. Todd had been about to light a cigarette as well and Damian had begun his lecture by snatching it from his hands.  
    “That’s not allowed.”  
    Todd had simply grinned.     
    “You know sometimes, I can’t tell whether you want the old man’s job or Alfred’s.”  
    “If you’re referring to father—”  
    “Oh, _right ___. Geez, I’d up and forget if you didn’t rub it in all the time.”  
    Damian had glared up at Todd’s unreadable expression.  
    “You’re lucky even to be invited, street trash. Don’t just think you can waltz in whenever you please.”  
    Todd had raised his eyebrows and sneered down at Damian.  
    “Are we going to do this again, squirt? Hmm, I haven’t kicked any Wayne asses lately.”  
    “You—”  
    “That’s sooo not true!” Grayson had chimed in, appearing out of nowhere. “You beat me sparring last week, didn’t you?”  
    Todd quickly shrugged Grayson’s arm from his shoulder but didn’t get up from the couch.  
    “Does that really count?” replied Todd in a low voice. He suddenly looked bored of this conversation.  
    “Of course it does.”  
    Grayson had turned to smile affectionately at Damian.  
    “You’re definitely right to yell at him for the cigs though.” He elbowed Todd in the upper arm. “I tell him to stop every time I see him but apparently he’s going deaf.  Shooting too many of your pretty guns, Jay?”  
    “Hilarious, Richard, hilarious,” Todd replied, but looked almost amused despite himself. “I’m not going to give up my one vice so you can breathe better when you come pester me on the job.”  
    “Your one vice?” said Damian acidly.  
      Todd glanced at Damian with undisguised scorn. “Yeah, sorry, golden child. See I have some stress I need to deal with and I can’t spend a bunch of money on whatever it is you do to keep it together. What? Like ninja yoga or something?”  
    “ _Ninja yoga? ___”  
    Todd ignored Damian’s exclamation and turned toward Grayson. “So what does the pipsqueak do to de-stress? Or is it what I’ve always feared, the kid’s actually a robot?”  
    Grayson smiled and reached to pat Damian on the head. Damian ducked away with ease.  
    “This kid? A robot? Not likely. Generally speaking, he’s like Bruce and beats the crap out of the poor dojo dummies. But sometimes…”  
    Grayson smile widened into a mischievous grin.  
    Damian sensed trouble and smacked Grayson’s arm. “Shut up.”  
    Todd leaned forward on the couch.  
    “Oh no, no, no. This you have to tell me!”  
    “Don’t,” hissed Damian.  
    “Spill it!”  
    “Oh dear, I don’t know if I should…” demurred Grayson, hiding a wicked smile behind his hand. He glanced from Todd to Damian and their equally aggressive stances.  
    “Well…” he began slowly.  
    “Grayson, as you value your existence stop talking,” ordered Damian.  
    “What’s it worth you, Dami?” replied Grayson smugly.      
    Damian’s mind raced. It had to be something he could actually bear because Grayson had a notorious memory for promises, however small. Something Grayson would like…  
    “You can organize my sixteenth birthday party!” Damian blurted out.  
    “What??” said Grayson, Todd, Drake, and Stephanie simultaneously.  
    Of course the two of them would join the conversation at that very moment. Of course.  
     “Deal!” yelled Grayson happily. “Your secret’s safe with me! Cross my heart and hope to die!”  
    “What the hell…” muttered Todd. With one last glare at Damian and a small smack on the side of the head for Grayson he left the couch. He nodded at Stephanie in greeting and pretty much ignored Drake.  
    “It’s going to be so fun! Why do we have to wait so long?” said Stephanie.  
    “Time flies, Steph. This kid will be taller than you in a couple years,” pointed out Drake. “How’re you going like that?”  
    Stephanie shook her head. “Ew, not at all. I like this size.”  
    Damian growled under his breath. “Hello, I’m right here.”  
    “Don’t worry, I’ll still like you even if you get stupidly tall like these guys,” Stephanie assured him.  
    “Whatever.”  
    “This kid’s going to be like Bruce, remember? He’s gonna be massive,” Grayson said, with yet another failed attempt to ruffle Damian’s hair.  
    “He might be taller than Jason even,” said Drake in a quiet voice. He rested his elbows on the back of the couch next to the Stephanie’s head.  
    “Oh boyyyy…” said Stephanie. “I don’t know if that’ll make things better or worse.”  
    Grayson was laughing. “I can’t wait for that!”  
    Drake rolled his eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”  
    For once, Damian agreed. But he kept resolutely silent.  
    “I came over here to see if you guys wanted to watch a movie or something,” continued Drake.  
    “Sure,” replied Grayson, as Stephanie nodded.  “What about Jay and Cass?”  
    “Probably talking to Bruce.”  
    “What about, I wonder?” Grayson glanced back at the study.  
    “I think it’s just that serial killer hitting the new neighborhood near the river.”  
    “If you say so…”  
    “So, movie?” piped up Stephanie.  
    A very long argument over films, which had resulted in the choice of _Shutter Island __to be followed by _Lost Boys ____, meant that by the time the first movie was over Damian had decided to go to bed. Grayson told him it was okay, that he’d carry him to bed if he fell asleep, but Damian was not at all tempted by that scenario. He said goodnight and went to the study.  
    Cass had joined the movie-watchers a third of the way through Leo’s trip to that drizzly island so it was just Jason and father in the study. It was an awkward atmosphere to say the least. Damian was pretty sure that the only thing keeping them together in that room was the collection of frankly fascinating cold cases that father had spread out on the table. Todd was peering at one of the files when Damian came in the room.  
    “Goodnight, father,” Damian said loudly.  
    Bruce turned to him and held out an arm. Todd became even more invested in looking at some old photographs. Damian hesitated for a moment and then walked close enough for his father to rest a heavy arm on his shoulders for a few brief seconds. Then Bruce let go and smiled faintly.     
    “Goodnight, Damian.”  
    Without looking at Todd’s face, Damian left the room.      
  
    The dining room was spotless. Pennyworth had been working for a detective for too long. The kitchen table, however, was a little more helpful. Apparently, during the remainder of the night, probably after father had gone to bed, the movie-watchers had become hungry. There were a few bits of popcorn, cookie crumbs, and some flakes of cereal scattered across the tabletop. Damian squinted at it for a few minutes and concluded it was indeed one of the kinds Grayson always ate when he came to visit. He then went to check the dishes drying by the sink. Grayson’s favorite cereal mug was resting upside down with a couple of glasses and a solitary spoon.  Damian allowed himself a smile.     
    He heard soft footsteps behind him and whirled to see his prime suspect yawning cheerfully.  
    “Hey you.”  
    “Good morning, Grayson. You are the reason there is No Milk.”  
    “Wha-Oh. Last night? Yeah, I guess we finished it.”  
    “We?”  
    “Tim and Steph had some with their cookies…”  
    “Oh. But you had the most.”  
    “Probably.”  
    Damian crossed his arms over his chest.  
    “But look at it this way, I saved you, didn’t I?”  
    Damian frowned.     
    “I mean, you were going to make something, weren’t you? Pancakes? For Bruce? For me?”  
    Damian frowned harder.  
    “Jason’s still here, Tim’s still here…”  
    Damian understood but wasn’t in the mood to reply positively.  
    “Your secret’s safe with me. Cross my heart and hope to die,” repeated Grayson with a smile. “Now show me how to work the crazy new toaster.”


End file.
